The Turning Point
by Whosaidblondescan'tread
Summary: A Halloween one-shot to go along with How to Survive the Zombie Apocalypse. It was the day her husband turned. It was the day she lost herself. It was supposed to be one of her favorite days of the year, but it turned out to be the worst. Jeb/Dr.M fic about the day that everyone turned. *Don't have to read HTSTZA to read this (I couldn't resist with the title...)


**I write this as I binge on candy, probably earning back that five pounds I just lost, listening to Halloween 3 play downstairs. I should probably be studying, but I thought you guys would appreciate a one-shot more.**

**Note: Takes place in the HTSTZA world, the night the zombie outbreak begins. I know that it's not really Halloween when it happens, but it fits my needs.**

**Mostly Dr. M, Val, and Jeb...**

* * *

Valencia Martinez hummed to herself as she filled an orange bowl with candy. Autumn had always been one of her favorite season, and the house was decorated accordingly. Orange pumpkins on the porch, a bowl of crisp, red apples sat in a bowl on the granite counters she had begged Jeb for, and pictures of Halloweens past were stuck on the fridge.

She smiled at the picture of a gapped toothed Max in her halloween costume from years before. She grabs the butter, eggs, and milk as she hears the front door opens.

She pretends not to notice when her husband comes into the kitchen, trying to steal a piece of candy from the bowl.

"Those are for the kids, you know," She says, still not turning around.

She feels Jeb's arms go around her and she leans her head back on his shoulder, only to open her eyes a second later to swat his hand away from the bowl of cookie dough.

Jeb shrinks back like a wounded puppy, holding his hand. Valencia only rolls her eyes. "Can I at least have one when they're done?" He asks.

His wife gives a snort. "If you can get past Max, of course you can," she says. "Now go get changed. You're tracking mud all over my house."

"_Our_ house," He corrects, pecking her on the cheek. She swats him with her spoon, a smirk on her face, and he puts his hands up in surrender, chuckling.

He leaves the room and she look out the window, absent mindedly scooping cookie dough onto a tray. The leaves on the tree were already starting to turn, painting her yard in shades of red, orange, and yellow. The apple tree that Ella had planted last year for one of her clubs, Val wasn't even sure which one it was anymore, was growing in nicely. In a few years it might even start sprouting apples.

Jeb was whistling in the bedroom, and she could already hear some of the younger children trick-or-treating. She remembers those first years when Max decided that she was too old to hand out candy with Val, always pushing for 'one more house' before they went home.

_Gosh, even at four Max had been demanding,_ she thought. It had only gotten worse with age. Valencia had hoped it was just a phase, like when she had worn her ninja costume for a month straight or when she refused to watch anything except Kipper, trying to pick up the accent. Unfortunately, she had not been so lucky in that area.

But she couldn't ask for two better girls. Although Max could have a stubborn streak and hold a grudge like nobody's business, she was still an amazing daughter. And though there was many a night that she had to comfort Ella because of some fictional character's death she couldn't be happier.

The doorbell rings, a four note chime that echoes through the house, and she goes to answer the door, bowl in hand.

Jeb had beaten her to it and is grinning down at a little boy in a sheet and a girl in a fairy costume. Both look about five, not quite old enough to go to school yet.

The woman with them nudges the girl gently. "What do you say, Cath?"

"Trick-or-Treat!" They both shout in unison.

Val holds out the bowl. "Take as many as you like." She says, smiling down at them.

Their eyes go wide, and they both take a fistful, shoving it in their bag. Throwing a 'thank you," over their shoulder, they race down the steps and out the gate, already moving on to the next house.

The woman shakes her head, letting out a breathy laugh. "I'd better go catch up with them," She says. "Have a nice night."

The two watch her sprint after the boy and the girl, remembering the days when both them and their children were younger.

Jeb shuts the glass door softly, taking the bowl from her hands and sitting it on the entry-way table. He grins at her as the oven timer goes off, before racing down the hall. Val stands there confused for a moment, before laughing and racing off after him. No matter how old Jeb got, he would always be a kid at heart.

She enters the kitchen to find him sloppily pouring two glasses of milk, the white liquid spilling over the sides, two cookies in his mouth and at least six in his other hand.

"Why are deese so 'ot?!" He asks, through the chocolate chip cookies.

"Because they just came out of the oven!" She gets out between laughs.

Valencia starts to put another batch in as Jeb gets ice for his hand. There's a knock on the door and Jeb goes to answer the door.

"And what are you supposed to-" She hears the bowl clatter to the floor, and suddenly he's shouting her name. "Valencia! Call the police!"

"What's wrong, Jeb?" The smile falls from her face.

"Just call the police! And stay where you are," He answers.

Instead of doing as she's told, she grabs the phone, already dialing 9-1-1, as she sprints down the hall to the front door.

The candy she had bought just yesterday lay scattered on the floor. Jeb's kneeling in front of a man, a red liquid spilled over the floor.

Before she can even get annoyed at her hardwood floors being ruined, it occurs to her what it is and why Jeb wanted her to stay in the kitchen.

_Blood_

Blood on the man. Blood on Jeb. Blood coating the floor and some of the candy. Blood already soaking into her socks, as she takes a step back and wonders why she didn't wear any shoes.

But then she shakes her head, and kneels down besides Jeb. She's a vet, and she won't let it be said that she was worrying about her socks, however nice they were, when a man was dying in her entry-way.

"You have to get away from me!" The man is screaming, flailing his arms. "There are monsters out there, cannibals, and they're eating people." His eyes are huge, but he grips Val's arm tightly and says with a sudden calm, "You have to get out of the town, it's not safe. Please, get your children and leave. If you don't you'll be-"

The man gasps, clutching his stomach. Val hands Jeb the phone as the operator picks up and races up the stairs to get her medical bag. She may not be a doctor, but she could keep him alive until the ambulance got there. At least, she hoped she could.

Taking the steps two at a time, she barely stops to sit down, just throwing herself to the floor and unzipping her bag. Jeb is asking the man questions, probably just repeating what the operator is saying. Although Jeb was good in a crisis, could keep his calm, he wasn't good at calming others down. Her heart wrenched at the sight of how much pain and panic was in his eyes, unbeknownst to someone who didn't know him as well as she did.

She cuts his shirt open, searching for the origin of the blood flow. A mouth shaped gash in his side makes her remember what he had said earlier about cannibals. Valencia interrupts Jeb half way through his question, asking one of her own.

"What were you saying about cannibals out there?" She glances up at the door as she digs around for antibacterial and gauze.

It's no use though, the man is already curling in on himself in pain, too hysterical to answer her question. His screams echo through the house just as the doorbell did not even an hour before.

She moves her eyes from his face to her bag- _for not even three seconds_- and hears Jeb stop talking and feels his hand on her arm.

She turns back to the man, who has stopped moving, his eyes a glassy white. People always say that you look peaceful in death, but this man did not.

_No_, she thinks, taking his pulse, trying to do the Heimlich, but she knows she's not a doctor. Animals are her speciality, not humans.

She looks at her hands, stained a dark red as if she had stuck them in dye. She stands up, her bag falling to the floor, it's contents skittering across the floor. Suddenly, she has to get the blood off her hands. Although there's been blood on them before, this is different.

"Val-" Jeb begins, but she doesn't let him finish. She walks numbly to the kitchen, turning the water to scalding hot. She pumps soap onto her hands and scrubs them under the water. No matter how long her hands are under, they just seem to be getting redder.

It occurs to her that this may be because of how hot the water is, but she doesn't do anything to fix it.

"Valencia," Jeb begins, pulling at her shoulder. She spins around, her eyes welling with tears, from the pain or what she just witnessed, she's not sure. "The police will be here in a few minutes. We all know you did your best."

"Well, my best isn't very good then," She says fiercely, sharper than she intended to. Jeb looks hurt for a moment, but it doesn't last long. Val hadn't spoken to him like that in years, not since-

Her train of thought was cut off by a low moan. She looks at Jeb questioningly, then back towards the door. She was sure that that man had no pulse. Was there someone else in the house?

"Stay here," Jeb demands, grabbing a knife.

"But Jeb-"

"I mean it this time," He said, turning around and walking back to the front door.

She fumbled behind her in the knife drawer, and grabbed a knife. It's smaller than Jeb's, and she cut herself getting it out, but it would do. In the back of her mind, it registers that the oven timer went off, and her cookies are ready, but she pays it no mind.

She creeps forward toward the hall, peering around the corner. She can't see her husband, but she dare not go any farther. Instead, she paces back and forth in the kitchen, clutching her knife in hand.

Something clatters to the floor behind her, and she spins around. Jeb had knocked the bowl of apples and they had rolled across the kitchen, coming to a rest at her feet.

"Jeb!" She shouts. She drops the knife, and runs to him, coming to a stop a foot away from him.

"You have to get the girls, Val," He gets out in between clenched teeth. "It's too late for me, but you could still save them."

"I'm not going to leave you," She says fiercely, despite the tears welling in her eyes.

"You _have_ to," he nearly shouts at her. "If you love me, or the girls, you'll get out of here and find somewhere safe."

"Are you sure there isn't anything I could do?" The first tear rolls down her cheek.

As Jeb wipes it away, he repeats, "It's too late for me, Val."

She nods her head. Unlatching her hand from his, the little warmth he was giving off leaving it, she races up the stairs to pack a bag.

_Only the essentials,_ she thinks to herself. She may not be Max and have a whole backpack packed in case something like this happened, but she could make due. But what was even happening?

All she knew was that there was a dead man in her foyer, her husband was dying in her kitchen, and her children were hours away. Trick-or-treating didn't seem so important anymore.

Jeb had said to go somewhere safe. But what was safe when you didn't even know what was going on? Did someone from Jeb's job have a grudge? But would they really kill two other people because of a petty argument?

No, Jeb wasn't like that. If there was a problem with someone, he would try to talk it out. He never would have let it get to this point. So what was it then?

Val finished packing her bag, running back down the stairs, where she came to a sudden halt. Jeb stood there, in front of the door, a sickly green. He was a bit wobbly on his feet, and his eyes looked a little cloudy.

"Jeb?" She asked cautiously. A low moan came from the back of his throat. She took a step backwards as he took one forwards, but it was in vain. Before his foot could even touch the ground, he toppled over, crying out in pain.

She knelt down next to him, knowing she should leave, _knowing_ she should get out of there, but still too stubborn to leave her husband in his final moments.

"Val, Max was right," Jeb whispered.

"About what?" She asked, her voice pained.

"The zombie-" He was cut off by his own scream of pain. "_Get away from me!_"

He pushed her back into their living room and she almost hit her head on the fireplace. Jeb was still screaming as she touched her head.

Her hand came away bloody.

Jeb's screams had turned silent, his mouth and eyes wide. As she watched in fear, paralyzed, he started taking deep breaths, gasping for air, until he turned to look at her.

"I love you. Always remember that," He curled in on himself, letting out a moan. "Now, _run_."

She scrambled to her feet, grabbing the first thing she could get reach of. Jeb lay unmoving on the ground, and with tears spilling down her cheeks, Valencia Martinez Bachelder calmly walked toward her dead husband with a fireplace poker in hand.

She stepped over him, pointing the poker at his chest, just in case- she wasn't even sure what she thought was going to happen. But she knew that she wasn't going to move that poker for all the money in the world.

Just as she made it to the garage door, keys in hand, and let out a sigh of relief, she felt a cold, slightly damp hand grab her ankle. Caught of guard, she fell to the ground, the fireplace poker rolling away from her.

She looked down at her ankle to see Jeb holding her in place. Except this wasn't Jeb. His eyes, usually so bright, were dull and lifeless.

Jeb pulled himself up, and Val tried to move backwards, only to find she was unable to do so. From where she was, she couldn't reach the garage door or her only weapon. She cursed herself for dropping the knife that she had originally brought with her.

She tried to kick Jeb's face, but it was no use. Even when she heard his neck give a sickening crack, he kept his grip.

Now she had no doubt what this was. For all the years she had lived with Max, she wasn't sure why she hadn't figured it out sooner.

This was the zombie apocalypse.

The thought of Max gave her a renewed energy. Max had already unknowingly lost one of her parents. She wasn't going to lose another.

With Jeb's hand still in an iron grip on her ankle, she reached for the keys that she had also dropped.

They were just close enough for her to grab onto them, and pushing herself up, she steeled herself for what she was about to do.

She would never forget the nauseating sound of her keys driving themselves into her husbands eyes.

This loosened his grip on her ankle just enough for her to wiggle free. She was barely standing up when she started running for the garage, key already in hand.

She slammed the door behind her, hoping that Jeb wouldn't figure out how to open it.

She ran to her minivan- unfortunately not her choice vehicle for this situation- and tried to find the key.

_No, no, no..._ The word ran through her head again and again. The key was missing, off the ring. She didn't have time to wonder what had happened to it or go back inside to search for it. Instead, she grabbed Max's bike and threw open the side door.

She knew the garage door would be loud, and she didn't want to risk it. So, on bike- an even worse choice, she knew- she tore through the neighborhood, not sure where she was going or how long it would take to get there.

All she knew, was that she had to find her girls. She would keep trying until she was dead.

Or, like her husband, undead.

* * *

**Personally, I think the ending's a bit shaky, but I have to sleep. SO, tell me what you think! Like it, love it, absolutely adore it? Haha, but really, I want honest opinions. I'm not sure if there's going to be another chapter to this, but probably not. Depends on how many reviews I get.*hint hint***

**QOTD-**

**How was your guy's Halloween or Dios de los muertos? Not sure if I spelled that right, but it's fun to say!**

**Anyways, thanks to anyone who favorites, follows, or reviews!**

**-Random :D**


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